Ordinary Business
by Nekokoban
Summary: Akabane recieves a job he most certainly can refuse. Business goes on as usual.


"Ordinary Business"  
  
**************************  
  
The man across from him was large, built tall and heavy in a fashion mostly alien to Japan. He crammed himself into the corner of their wall booth to fit, with his knees rucked up and one foot brushing Akabane's. He had a foreign name as well, something German in flavor, and he smelled overwhelmingly of old cigarette smoke.  
  
The remains of their meal lay on pushed-aside plates, forgotten by his host and apparently by the sullen waitress who'd served them. His companion was now nursing his sixth beer, tottering on the edge of being a loud drunk. Akabane, who refrained from both alcohol and tobacco, did not comment.  
  
"It's an easy job," the man said, and slammed one heavy fist against the tabletop for emphasis. Their plates jumped a little, and some water sloshed out of Akabane's glass. His companion did not notice, too infatuated with his sales pitch to recognize the courier's subtle distaste. "All you have to do is deliver the books to my cousin and then get paid. If you work for me, I'll take care of you." He waggled his eyebrows and grinned, already shaking hands in his mind's eye.  
  
Akabane picked up his glass and sipped delicately. The smoky ambiance of this little bar made his throat sting a little. He did not like to be around people who smoked as a general rule, and forgave the act in only a small handful of people. He decided he much preferred the little coffee shop where the GetBackers conducted business, even if he found the location unpleasant. Both Midou-kun and the master smoked in the café, but two men, even regulars, could not completely fill the place, and at least it had proper lighting.  
  
He personally liked clean bright lights, the sort that exorcised all shadows--like the ones used in hospitals. It made his reading much easier.  
  
"I am a very expensive person to hire," he said, and tilted his cup a little, so that the ice clinked to emphasize his point. The water tasted of metal and minerals, straight from the tap, but it made a decent prop. "If this is such an easy job, you'd be better off hiring a ... smaller name in the business."  
  
The comment earned him a self-righteous sputter. He did not bother to hide his smile, because the expression was no different from his regular "pleasant business face."  
  
It took a moment for his potential client to calm down, to fortify his irritation with another deep gulp of beer. "Look," he said, his broad face now stained red, "I only hire the best, no matter what. Even if the job's easy, these books are *important*--"  
  
"Of course they are," Akabane interrupted smoothly. His smile never faltered. "I simply wanted to suggest that for such a simple operation, it might be better to save your funds. I meant no insult, truly."  
  
Narrow, bloodshot blue eyes darted from one corner to the other. The other man hunkered over, as though trying to make himself appear smaller. Hiding in plain sight took a talent he did not possess--but he tried, and received points for that. "Look," he said, in a voice that was meant to be low and secretive, "all you gotta do is take these books to my cousin, all right? No harm in that. Naota Hiroshi. He'll be waiting for you."  
  
Akabane looked at the man, with his white-blond hair and pale blue eyes. "You have a very diverse family. Truly, you do," he said mildly.  
  
The other man smiled uneasily, as though waiting for the catch. When Akabane said nothing else, he reached down and pulled up three books, which he put down and pushed across the table. Their covers were blank and solid blue, devoid of any title or decoration.  
  
Akabane picked up the top one, about the size of a writing journal, and turned it over carefully. He did not miss the way his companion tensed up, large heavy hands curling into unsubtle fists on the tabletop. He let the book balance between careful fingertips for a moment longer, then set it down. "Perhaps a delivery such as this is left to more universal governmental services," he said. "Truly, mailing this would cost a great deal less, and it would arrive just as--"  
  
"NO!" The word burst out of the other man as a pained help, which he immediately tried to cover by straightening and coughing into one thick fist. "I mean--that's not plausible, Akabane-san. I don't--um--the truth is, I don't trust the postal service, because of bad experiences in the past." He smiled, but it looked sickly, and Akabane could see the sweat beading his forehead and upper lip. The smell of his fear crowded out the stink of old cigarettes.  
  
"Is that so?" Akabane asked smoothly. "Well, the truth is, I'm not terribly fond of it myself. I simply wanted to give you a cheaper option ... truly." He did not tap his fingers or even change his expression, but each long passing second wore on his potential client's nerves like steel wool.  
  
After the interval of delicately spaced waiting, Akabane said, "Perhaps if you could explain the significance of why these books are so important--"  
  
"It's vital these get to Naota on time, all right?" He spoke brusquely, as though trying to override Akabane's soft voice. Given the otherwise low buzz of noise from the bar around them, he did not have to strain much. "They're, um. They're family items, from my father, who just passed away, and--"  
  
He said nothing, just waited. After a moment, the man's face twisted and he tried again. "My sister-in-law, see, she gave these to me the last time I saw her, and I know that Nao--er, Hiroshi--is always looking for new journals and--"  
  
Akabane sipped his water again, then put the glass down. The clink it made against the table shot through his companion like an electric current: he stiffened, then slowly unwound in a moment of wide-eyed desperation. "Akabane-san, please! I told you the job will be easy, and it will pay well! What more do you need?" He reached out and snatched one of Akabane's slim hands between both his own, pressing it with ordinary brute strength. Compared to the inhuman force of Midou-kun's Snakebite, Akabane was unimpressed.  
  
He raised an eyebrow, never breaking eye contact. It took him a moment to realize the problem, and once he did, he dropped Akabane's hand as though it were red-hot. "Oh, no, I'm--I'm so sorry, Akabane-san, I didn't mean--"  
  
"While it is customary to shake hands when sealing a business deal, I have not agreed yet." Akabane did not rub at his freed hand to return feeling to the long fingers, nor did he yank it protectively to his own breast. He simply set it back onto the table, palm down, and changed his expression by raising an eyebrow. "Please, don't insult us by assuming my acceptance that quickly."  
  
"No, no, of course not!" It was distantly amusing, how quickly the man tripped over his own tongue to apologize. His big hands roamed, too heavy to flutter, trying to find a safe place to rest. "I'm sorry, Akabane-san; I didn't mean to--"  
  
The apologies came fast and blurred, and Akabane finally put his cup down and got to his feet. He picked up his hat and smoothed the wide brim, then held it to his chest. His potential client's words trailed off to an uneasy silence. Around them, the noises of the little bar seemed to pick up, crowding into the gap between them.  
  
"Akabane-san?"  
  
He pressed the hat to his chest, like a man ready to bow, and smiled politely. "I regret to say that I must refuse this offer," he said calmly. "I do not appreciate my clients withholding important information from me, and this job does not seem as though it would be very interesting."  
  
A flurry of emotions chased their way across the large man's red face: embarrassment, disbelief, and finally a settled, burning anger. He shoved up from his seat, and ended up banging his knees where there wasn't enough room for his bulk. The small stinging pain only added to his anger; his fear fell drowned victim to his rage. Akabane let it strike him and part around him, like river water around a rock.  
  
"You--you can't just--"  
  
"I fail to see any interesting challenge to this particular job," he said, and knew the man heard the implied insult. "I take jobs for what challenge they may present me, and so I must regretfully decline your offer."  
  
He watched in mild fascination as the man's red color only deepened, livid against the paleness of his hair. The wide mouth worked soundlessly, trying to articulate the range of his anger. Akabane continued to smile pleasantly, and nodded once as he left.  
  
Outside, the air nipped sharp and cool, smelling of rain. The moon lay half-hidden behind a veil of clouds, and Akabane, feeling whimsically, tipped his hat to it.  
  
Footsteps started after his before he'd even crossed the street. Akabane let the shadows hide his smile. Perhaps he'd underestimated the entertainment this rejected client could provide; as a large man, and visually obvious in his strength, he might even prove something of a challenge.  
  
Then again ... Akabane rubbed his fingers together, and remembered the feeling of metal ripping out of his own flesh. Amano Ginji looked like a healthy young man, but with no particular outward indication of his abilities.  
  
It was slightly distressing, that so many things bored him now, after the opportunities to fight both Raitei and an enraged Midou-kun had been snatched from his fingers. That pique was, perhaps, the reason why he would encourage such an otherwise boring man; it had been weeks since his last truly engrossing job, and he was running out of ways to entertain himself.  
  
*You have ruined me, Ginji-kun, Midou-kun,* he thought whimsically, as he deliberately turned and walked into the first alley he crossed. Conveniently, he recognized it as a shortcut to his own modest apartment. Therefore, he would not have far to go after disposing of his desperate follower. *I've become so bored when you're not around. Truthfully.*  
  
The alley amplified all the small sounds of the night--including those of a big man trying to sneak. Akabane's own boots made no noise against the pavement.  
  
He'd almost made it to the end of the alley when the man made his move. The footsteps behind him sped up, and Akabane allowed the man to drop a heavy hand on his shoulder, then to pull him to a stop. Smiling, he looked up into pale, bloodshot eyes.  
  
"Akabane-san," the man rasped. "Please, I'm begging you--you have to reconsider--"  
  
"Please let go of me," Akabane interrupted, still smiling. "I believe I have terminated our association, sir. Perhaps, if you prefer, I could offer you the recommended names of some of my colleagues--?"  
  
"You don't *understand*," the man said, his hold on Akabane's shoulder tightening. "It *has* to be you, or else--"  
  
"Unfortunately for you, I have already refused." Akabane brushed at the hand gripping him, and was not surprised that the careless movement didn't loosen his companion's hold. "It's most unprofessional of you to keep insisting like this."  
  
In the darkness, he saw the way the man's eyes rolled--not out of sarcasm, but rather ordinary animal fear. The stink of it seemed to fill the entire alley, stronger than the scattered trash. Akabane waited.  
  
"It's your fault," the man blurted. "I need--I *need*--don't you understand? It has to be you, I've already told my cousin that you'd come; he won't accept anyone else--"  
  
"I believe you're quite trying my patience," Akabane murmured. "Please let go of me."  
  
His request earned him a single hard shake. "You don't *understand*," the man groaned. His breath smelled like alcohol and tobacco, and Akabane resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. Endearing as it looked on Ginji-kun, he did not quite have the face for it.  
  
"So you've said," he said demurely. "However, I--"  
  
The man released him in a sudden, hard shove; Akabane took a simple step back, rather than stumbling. As he adjusted his hat, he saw the man pat himself down, searching for something, without ever taking his eyes from Akabane's face. The smell of his fear-sweat mixed with the lingering traces of his indulgences--quite stomach-turning, really.  
  
A rustle, a hoarse cough, and Akabane found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. He raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Is this a hint?" he asked smoothly. "Then I'll give you one, too. I am not interested in doing business with you. I would rather we parted on amicable terms. Life is much easier that way."  
  
*And I am not currently working, right now,* he added to himself. *Disposal may be a problem.*  
  
"Akabane-san, please," the man pleaded, looking straight through him. "Hiroshi will *kill* me if you don't go to him; he wants to see you--he's heard all about you, and I--you've got to help me, I can't--"  
  
"What you can or cannot do is none of my concern," Akabane said, almost gently. "Good-night, sir." He turned and began to walk away, one hand braced against his hat for the coming shot. Though the slit in the brim was an agreeable addition, he did not want to deal with any gaping holes to join it.  
  
"Akabane-san--!"  
  
He turned the moment the gun went off, ducking smoothly under its trajectory. He did not so much *leap* forward as *flow*, years of liquid practice honed on his muscle and bone. Without pausing, the scalpels pulled out of his flesh, and after that--it was no difficult thing, to sign his work on the dead man's body.  
  
Behind him, the bullet pinged loudly off a brick wall. He rather hoped none of his neighbors heard.  
  
A huge, heavy hand grabbed the hem of his jacket, tugging it rudely askew. Akabane looked down into the dead man's eyes. They stared back up at him, begging.  
  
"A--Akaba--Akabane-san--" he gurgled; blood frothed pink at his lips. Akabane frowned. This was a sloppiness he was unaccustomed to--really, seeing that mess made him ashamed of his signature on this piece. Very calmly, he stepped out of the man's reach. His mouth moved silently, trying to force a voice for desperate last words--and then failing.  
  
His head and hand thumped heavily to the pavement. The clean metallic scent of blood cut through the lingering stench of fear and cleared his head.  
  
Akabane dusted himself off, tucked the scalpel neatly back under his skin. It burned going in, white-hot and clean. When it was safely back in place, he tugged at his gloves to straighten them, and turned. However irritating, it seemed he would need to pull some strings and call in a few favors; he did not, as a rule, enjoy any interaction with disposal agents. They were crude in their efficiency, with no sense of elegance in their souls.  
  
Still, leaving a body this close to his own apartment was not a viable option. *He*, at least, had a sense of courteous obligation to his neighbors, and in his own experience, unexpected bodies being discovered nearby tended to make people nervous.  
  
Truthfully, that was so.  
  
"--I'm telling you, I *heard* it!"  
  
"What're you talking about? Who's gonna have a gun out *here*, of all places?"  
  
"Ban-chan, I know what I heard, and it came from this way ... c'mon, we should at least look--"  
  
Akabane glanced up in time to see the two figures appear at the mouth of the alleyway. Enough clouds had moved away from the moon to provide a clear band of light across their faces, and he saw each minute detail as Amano Ginji's face went from determined to surprised to fearful within seconds.  
  
"A--Akabane-san?!"  
  
He smiled pleasantly. The evening no longer seemed like such a loss. "Ginji-kun." He looked past the blonde, and saw another face scowling back at him, blue eyes flinty behind violet sunglasses. "Midou-kun, as well. It's a pleasant evening, isn't it? Truly, worthy of a nice long walk." He took a step towards them, and was amused when Ginji-kun automatically stepped back. The movement carried him into Midou-kun, who stood ramrod straight and did not budge.  
  
"What the hell d'you want, you damn zombie?" Midou-kun spat the words out, like an attack. He did everything on the offensive, even when he spoke to Ginji-kun--though the difference between the two was like a hunting cat baring its teeth at danger, and in play.  
  
Akabane did not slow or stop; he continued walking towards them. Ginji-kun now stood partially behind Midou-kun, and though barely taller, he hid surprisingly well.  
  
"I?" he murmured. "Midou-kun, you and Ginji-kun were the ones who came bursting in on the scene. It seems impolite to make such demands."  
  
Midou-kun's blue eyes narrowed. He always heard a challenge in even the most innocent of phrases, and it was amusing to see how easily he could be provoked.  
  
"But if you must know," he continued, smoothly, "I had dinner with a potential client, and that did not turn out well. And then the night was so pleasant that I decided to take a walk. He followed me." Akabane chuckled suddenly, the sound whisper-soft. "Perhaps he was worried for my safety. However," and here he turned his head just a little, studying Ginji from the slit in his hat-brim, "he had no need of that. I am, after all, a professional. Truly."  
  
Ginji-kun swallowed hard, but did not back down. "And where is the client right now?" he asked, in a voice that--almost--did not shake.  
  
"Not a client, Ginji-kun," Akabane corrected gently. "I refused his business."  
  
Midou-kun's eyes darted to the side, to the stretch of dark alley visible behind Akabane's slim form. His lips compressed sharply, the ice in his gaze sharpening when he met Akabane's eyes. The transporting agent continued to smile gently at them both--but especially Ginji-kun, who looked more in need of a kind face than his partner.  
  
"I was not hurt, if you were worrying, Ginji-kun," he said.  
  
Ginji-kun winced, jumping like a startled puppy. He stared at Akabane, white-faced, and said nothing.  
  
"And then, if that is all ... ?" Akabane began moving forward before he finished the question, with Midou-kun surreptitiously pulling his silent partner out of the way. Their instinctive, bristling mistrust amused him; it was like dealing with a pair of untrained, unreserved puppies destined to be guard dogs.  
  
Still, and he knew this well, there were truly sharp teeth hidden in those young faces. The anticipation of future battles stirred his blood--and this was far more stimulating than the quiet, uneventful death of his unfortunate would-be client. If he strayed too close to the two of them, standing so close their auras blurred, it was like some sort of potent alcohol. The night was young, and every breath left the tang of blood and electricity in the back of his throat.  
  
And yet ... it was bad manners, not to mention poor professionalism, to pick a fight with people he could be easily working with, when the next assignment rolled around. From the looks of them, however, they were certainly expecting some kind of attack. It was unfortunate, how easily their young emotions could tip so precariously one way or the other, depending on the breath of the wind.  
  
Yet tonight, he'd leave them disappointed. He'd had his fun, and it seemed rude, really, to ruin their evening by pushing it.  
  
Akabane smiled, then tipped his hat to the GetBackers both.  
  
"Until the next time, Ginji-kun, Midou-kun. I will be looking forward to it. Truly."  
  
Then, without a backwards glance, he strolled back out into the cool, damp-scented night.  
  
--end-- 


End file.
